“Then what are you doing looking like a bum?” I asked.

  “It’s a very tragic story,” he replied, shuffling around in his ruined sneakers. “Woe is me.”

  “It can’t be that bad. Did you lose all your money?”

  “Oh how I wish that’s all I’d lost.”

  “Your girlfriend leave you”

  “Not my girlfriend—my wife.”

  “Maybe you should thank your lucky stars. Maybe you don’t know when you’re well off.”

  Tears rolled down his pale cheeks. “We were on our honeymoon,” he blubbered. “We hadn’t even been to bed yet. We were both virgins. And then that evil man put a hex on her and stole her away.”

  I stared at him in wide-eyed amazement. “By any chance are you Edward Burnham of Elmtree Iowa?” I asked.

  “How’d you know?” he stuttered.

  “I know a lot of things. I think you’d better come home with me and get cleaned up, because I have a funny feeling that your wife’s going to come back to you any minute now and you can’t let her see you like that.”

  “She’s coming back? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “A little birdie told me.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I won’t take her back,” he declared. “Not after she’s dirtied herself with a strange man.”

  “Gubishov’s not so strange, and he takes a lot of showers. Now be a good boy and get in the car.”

  “I refuse!”

  I socked him lightly on the jaw, caught him as he fell, and placed him in the passenger seat of the Ferrari. Then I got in and drove to the Gypsy Palace Hotel, checked both of us in, and had a bellboy carry young Ed to my room.

  He awoke in a chair. “Where am I?” he asked.

  “In my hotel room,” I replied. “Get in the bathroom and take a shower before I spank you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh no?”

  I chased him around the living room, caught him, bent him over my knee, pulled down his pants, and walloped him good. He was a big boy and he struggled hard, but I’m pretty strong and besides I know all the pressure points of karate. The cheeks of his ass became cherry red, and I was delighted. I get a little freaky when it comes to cute young guys like Ed. I like to play all sorts of games with them. I guess I really dig chicken once in a while.

  “Now get in that shower and clean up,” I commanded him.

  He slouched toward the bathroom, looking fearfully at me over his shoulder. Then I called room service and ordered a breakfast of Chateaubriand for two, a pot of raw oysters, a salad, and coffee. I leaned back and smoked a cigarette, wondering how to go about seducing the lad.

  The food arrived and shortly thereafter Ed came out of the shower, all pink and clean. He was wrapped only in a towel and I could see the outline of his cute little dingle. There’s something so nice about firm young flesh and innocence. I felt like the wicked witch of the west.

  “I don’t have any clean clothes,” he said.

  “We’ll get some later. But first sit down and eat. I’ll bet you haven’t had a good meal in days.”

  “I haven’t eaten hardly anything since Donna left.”

  “Well you’d better get your strength together if you want to get her back.”

  “I don’t want her back. She’s not pure anymore.”

  “Sit down and eat before I spank you again.”

  Obediently he sat, and I took the covers off the plates. We helped ourselves to the steaming food and ate hungrily. I kept glancing at him, seeing his complexion improve as the food went down. I caught him glancing at my cleavage a few times, a sign indicating increasing vigor and interest in the world. He’d be a pushover.

  “Have some of those oysters,” I said.

  Obediently he ate the oysters, and I had some too although I didn’t need them. The sight of this fresh young corn-fed all-American boy was making my kumquat tickle. And I had him all to myself.

  Finally all the food was gone. We sat looking at each other and smacking our lips. “I’ll bet you’re tired,” I said.

  “I haven’t slept a wink since Donna left.”

  “You poor boy. Actually I haven’t slept last night either. I think we’d better go to bed.”

  He turned green. “Together?”

  “I’m afraid there’s only one bed in this suite.”

  “Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a hostess if I let you sleep on the floor. No, you’re going to sleep in bed with me.”

  “But.. “

  “What’s the matter—are you afraid of me?”

  “No but…”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Come along now.”

  I took his hand and led him into the bedroom. It had a huge king-sized bed, a few chairs, dressers, and lots of mirrors. Ed was trembling like a little girl.

  “I don’t have pajamas,” he protested.

  “Neither have I, so we’re even. Now take off that towel and get in bed.”

  “Would you please look the other way?”

  “I will not.”

  Blushing like the virgin he was, he pulled off the towel and jumped into bed. I caught a glimpse of his Popsicle, and it was half-hard. So I was turning on the little sucker after all.

  I pulled down the zipper of my jumpsuit. He covered his eyes with his hands, but I could see he was peeking, the rascal. I undressed slowly, peeling off the jumpsuit inch by inch, and saw a tent arise on the bed where he was lying. The little bugger was getting a full hard-on. Well whataya know about that.

  And actually he wasn’t so little. In point of fact he was over six feet tall. It’s just that he was so young. Chicken. Yum yum.

  My round beautiful boobs fell out of the jumpsuit, and my poor little baby started trembling on the bed. I pushed the jumpsuit down further over the fuzz of my kumquat and the tent grew taller and taller. Turning around, and affording him a clear shot of the greatest ass in Las Vegas, I pushed the jumpsuit to the floor and stepped out of it.

  I put out the lights and crawled into bed with the lad. He scrambled to get as far away as possible from me. I played it very cool at first, not going after him at all, just lying there and pretending to fall asleep. He relaxed and rolled onto his back. I breathed deeply as if I was asleep. Then, and very stealthily, he started.

  He started jerking off, the little rascal. I could feel the bed rock ever so slightly. He was horny as a billy goat but he couldn’t bring himself to fornicate with me because he wanted to stay pure for his wife. So he’d rather jerk off. And he was afraid of me anyway. He didn’t know what to do with a cock-devouring monster like myself. His breathing became heavy. The body heat and presence of the fabulous Cherry Delight was driving him out of his mind.

  I reached over suddenly and grabbed the head of his throbbing dickey.

  “Can I help you with that?” I asked sweetly.

  “Please don’t,” he cried.

  I threw off the covers and moved closer. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said soothingly, not taking my hand off it. I gave it a little squeeze.

  He squirmed and writhed like an epileptic. I got on my knees beside that thing that’d never before known the touch of woman, and forced him to take his hands off it. Then I wrapped both my hands around it and massaged him firmly up and down.

  His legs were working like a jitterbug, and he was gasping for air. “No,” he said. “Don’t. Please.”

  “You love it and you know it,” I cooed.

  And without another word I bent down and put it in my mouth. And it tasted just like fresh roasted chicken. Massaging the shank with my hands, I sucked on the head and whirred my tongue around it. Then I pushed my mouth down on it and gave him some good deep throat.

  That did it, folks. The lad screamed and began to wrestle with me, all the while slamming his hips toward my face. I let him force me onto my back, and let him fornicate with my mouth. His youthful unbridled passion was as enjoyable and thrilling as the finesse of an accomplished sexual athlete. He was nearly choking me to death, but it was wonderful. I wrapped my arms around his buttocks and pinched his ass a few times to prod him to even more prodigious feats. He howled like a banshee, begged the ceiling for forgiveness, but never missed a stroke. Then he got all uncoordinated and I felt his penis thicken. It exploded in my mouth, a veritable sunburst of joy, and I swallowed fast as I could so he wouldn’t drown me. His juice streamed out my mouth and down my cheeks, into my hair.

  He pitched suddenly and fell to the side. I maneuvered him onto his back (he was helpless and wild-eyed at that point) and sat right on his dingle, burying it deep into my kumquat. I’d already taken his cherry with my mouth, and now I wanted to take it with my transmission. I rocked up and down on it, and he reached up and squeezed my alluring breasts. I took his ears in my hands and brought his mouth to my left nipple. He sucked it greedily while I climbed up and down his shaft. Then he sucked the other one. Then the first again. Finally he got smart and put both nipples in his mouth. I worked my labial muscles furiously. He shot a load into me and cried out so poignantly that I myself had an orgasm, but we kept right on going through the flashing lights and ocean surf.

  He pushed me onto my back again, and of course I let him. He mounted, took his dripping dingle in hand, and like an old pro shoved it into me. It’s interesting how little you have to show them once they get started. It’s as if we all carry within us the knowledge to be great sexual partners, all we need is the right person to turn us on. Too many people sleep with people who don’t turn them on that much, and that’s one of the great tragedies of the world. And also a cause of wars.

  But it was clear that I turned him on, and of course I wouldn’t have been in bed with him if he didn’t turn me on. It was gratifying to my ego to have gotten his goodies before his wife did, and gratifying to my kumquat because he was such a passionate young man. Without any coaxing from me he caught my legs in his arms and spread me wide open, pumping me like a sex degenerate. After a while he sort of tied my legs around his neck and socked it to me that way. He was a sloppy kisser, but I had to make allowances for his tender age.

  Suddenly he stopped, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. Moving his honeyed lips to my ear, he whispered, “Could I ask you a favor?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “Could I please lick you between the legs.”

  “If you want to,” I said coyly.

  “I hope you won’t think me a pig or anything like that.”

  “Of course not. Nothing that two people consent to is piggish.”

  “Thank you so much,” he said hoarsely as he threw himself with wild abandon in between my legs.

  I spread my legs wider and the lad ate me as if he was starving for what I had. He didn’t have much finesse (too much teeth and not enough stimulation to my clitty) but I let him get the madness out of his system, knowing full well that when a young man eats a kumquat for the first time it can sometimes blow his fuses. He got so out of control that he even thrust his tongue into my bunghole a few times, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give him what psychiatrists call Cunnilingual Trauma, which can sometimes be very serious and cause anti-social behavior.

  Slowly he calmed down, and in a soothing voice I told him of the importance of proper clitoral stimulation. Gently I guided him, and he was a good pupil. The reason I can say that with complete assurance is that within minutes he had me thrashing around on the pillow and coming all over his face. I felt that he was sucking my brains out, and it was a very pleasant sensation. It was so pleasant that I went into multiple orgasm and got so crazy that we both fell out of bed.

  Eventually we calmed down and crawled back into bed. We smoked cigarettes and sighed a lot because with our free hands we played with each other. He was particularly curious about my kumquat, I guess because he never felt one before.

  “Gee,” he said. “I guess I’ve done just about everything that a man can do with a woman, huh?”

  That was it, and we both knew it. I mean, two bodies can only take so much. We rolled away from each other and dropped into the dark arms of Morpheus.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was lying in Ed Burnham’s arms, dreaming of castles in Spain, when somebody slapped me across the head. Startled, I rolled over and opened my eyes.

  Standing there was Tony Vanello, his face red and beads of sweat standing out like pins on his forehead.

  “So here you are, you cruddy bitch!” he yelled.

  “How dare you,” I said weakly.

  “Look at you,” he screamed, “lying in bed with the kid, for crying out loud.”

  Ed got out of bed and held up his fists. “Who’re you calling a kid!”

  “YOU!” Vanello took a Colt .45 out of his shoulder holster and aimed it at Ed.

  I jumped out of bed and stood naked as a jaybird in front of him. “If you shoot him you’ll have to shoot me first,” I cried.

  “That’ll be my pleasure!” Tony said, then his eyes darted to my boobs, my muff, and the gun began to shake uncontrollably in his hand.

  I took advantage of his confusion to send Ed to the other room. I told him to stay there and be still. I knew he couldn’t go anyplace because he had no clothes. Then I returned to the bedroom, calmly sat in a chair, crossed my legs, and lit a cigarette.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked Tony.

  “You’re my problem,” he said, pacing back and forth. “How could you do this to me?”

  “I didn’t do anything to you—I did something to him.”

  “But he’s just a child.”

  “Did you see what he had between his legs?”

  Tony made a very unattractive face. “Oh what a lousy whore you are!”

  “I think you’re getting me confused with one of your Las Vegas girlfriends. I’m no whore. I don’t charge for it.”

  “Then you’re a tramp!”

  “I dress too well to be a tramp.”

  “You know what I mean! I ought to blow your depraved brains out!” And he aimed the Colt at me and looked like he was going to do just that.

  So I catapulted out of the chair, kicked the gun out of his hand, got him in a neck hold, and threw him to the floor. I jumped on top of him, twisted an arm behind his back, bent over, and whispered in his ear, “I think you forgot who you were fooling with.”

  “I hate you!” he yelled.

  “If you hate me, what do you care who I sleep with.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Because I love you.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to shoot me.” “I’m sorry.”

  I kissed his cheek. “You’re forgiven.”

  I got up, picked up the gun, and sat in the chair to finish my cigarette. He dragged himself to a chair and rubbed his aching neck.

  “You were saying that you love me, I believe,” I said.

  “I just said that so you’d let me go.”

  “You didn’t mean it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. So why are you mad because I’ve been screwing young Ed.”

  He covered his face with his hands. “Because I love you.”

  “I see.”

  He raised his head from his hands. “Do you love him?”

  “Of course not. I love you.”

  “Then why did you sleep with him?”

  “Why did you sleep with that washed-out little anemic bitch?” I countered.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Any old port in a storm.”

  “Why use one cliche when two will do, right? Well I was sleeping with young Ed because believe it or not he’s part of my plan to save Las Vegas.”

  He pounded his fist into his palm. “That is a low, filthy despicable lie!”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Are you trying to sit there and tell me that you didn’t enjoy it?”

  “Of course I didn’t enjoy it. A kid like that? Are you kidding? I was doing it to save Las Vegas, Nevada, the Southwest, the United States of America, and the Western World. And also your casino and hotel, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  He shook his head. “I think I’ve lost you someplace.”

  “I’ll explain in terms even you can understand one of these days, but meanwhile, what time is it?”

  He looked at his watch. “Eleven o’clock.”

  “Have you called the casino owners like I told you?”

  “Naturally. They’ll all be there.”

  I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up. “Then I’d better start getting ready. I think you’d better go back to your hotel and greet everybody when they arrive.”

  He stood up too, and the color was rising in his cheeks again. “You can’t send me away as if I’m some little goddamn clerk!”

  “How’d you like me to kick you right in the nuts?”

  “I don’t think I’d like that.”

  “Then get going.”

  He fell to his knees before me and clasped his hands together. “Please marry me,” he begged.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Why am I absurd?”

  “Get out of here before I lose the little bit of respect for you that I’ve been holding in reserve.” “But why won’t you marry me?”

  “Because I love you, you nitwit.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t treat you this way.”

  He looked puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t try. Just get over to your hotel and greet the casino people. I’ll explain everything later.”

  “But…”

  “GET GOING!”

  He skulked out of the room.

  I put on my robe and checked to see how Ed was doing.

  “I miss Donna,” he wailed. “I want to do with her what I did with you.” He was sitting on the sofa masturbating.

  “I’ll have her back here before the sun goes down today or my name isn’t Cherry Delight,” I told him. “And stop playing with yourself. Save some for your bride, for crying out loud.”

  I went into the bathroom and took a shower, shampooed my hair, cleaned out my kumquat, and brushed my teeth. Then I went to the bedroom and put on my white jumpsuit again. It was getting a little slovenly, but my luggage was in the Wild West Hotel. I decided to go there immediately.

 

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